New to Nuclear
by DwemerSteelBlade
Summary: The whole world's been consumed by nuclear fire, yet humanity has still found a way to survive. In vaults. A SPARTAN-III from Delta company finds this out first-hand. DISCONTINUED. REWRITE: COMMONWEALTH'S GENESIS
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Blade here! All right, this is the story version. If you wanna see the perverted version check out Plated Wasters.**

 **XXX**

 **Enzo-D407's POV**

Life. That was all I was thinking of. I had crash landed with a deserted ship on an unknown planet. The UNSC _Death of Misery_ lay in shambles around me. Ironically enough, it had absorbed the full force, but at a cost. A huge portion of the aft had been torn apart and everything was a chain explosion. So here I lay, waiting for the flames to calm.

" _Dannazione_ ," I cursed, looking around the remains of the ship. It was a miracle and a mishap all at the same time. The Covenant had been attacking this ship and they were going to launch a slipspace bomb. I had evacuated the already-small crew of the ship, but I had gotten out too late.

I eventually decided to go through my inventory. Being a SPARTAN, I always kept at least one weapon nearby. My DMR, though, was broken during the impact (I fell on it) and I was pretty sure that the second armory had a dozen DMRs and quadruple as many mags.

I navigated the torn halls, having to redirect my path several times due to debris and flames. My heavy metal boots thunked against the barren Grade-A titanium floors (and sometimes walls) on my way to the armory. Once I reached it, there was a slight obstacle. The doors had been crushed together, making it nearly irreversible to separate. Of course, I was a SPARTAN, and this wasn't much trouble since there were some convenient hand holds to grip.

Once I got in the armory, I was relieved to see that the most damage was just a couple broken ARs and BRs. There were plenty other guns to choose from. I decided to go with a DMR, a sniper, and plasma blade attachment that I had done in my spare time.

Unlike most of the other Delta Company SPARTANs, I was more of an engineer than a fighter. When I was young, I was always tinkering with something. By far, the plasma blade had been the easiest. All I had to do was take a functioning energy sword from a dead elite, reverse-engineer it, and mold the blade and plasma to fit into a sort of projector that goes under my forearm (basically a plasma Assasin's Creed hidden blade). I only had the materials to make one, so I slid it into the slot under my left forearm.

Unlike my SPARTAN-III successors, a highly-respected UNSC scientist Oliver Barch had created Delta company. So far, I counted him better than Dr. Halsey or Ackerson. He was a man in his late fifties, balding hair and a stereotype-wizard beard that reached down to the top of his stomach. He was kind, meticulous, and authoritative.

I let the mag from the DMR drop, as it had half its ammo gone for some unknown reason. I then slammed in another mag and put it on my back. I put at least 10 other mags in my utility storage and another 10 for my modified sniper, able to take 12 bullets in each mag.

I checked my suit for any type of breach. Zip. Once I was sure there wasn't in pressure leak, I walked out of the armory and to the mess. It took a large portion of the brunt. The whole back wall was replaced with an orange-brown stone wall. It was also tilted slightly, making it all but easier. I managed to stumble over to where the MREs were stored and took at least 25, stuffing it all in my utility. Something told me I'd need them.

I then managed to find my way to the closest cargo bay. Sadly, that was the place where a lot of the damage occurred. Three warthogs, five scorpions, two mongooses, and one pelican were all destroyed and worthless. Thankfully, a GAUSS hog, a pelican, and a mongoose stayed well-kept and were in working condition. The pelican had a bit of the wing torn, but I could easily fix it since it was more just a matter of repairing it than actually making a whole new wing. Doing that would've been a bit more of a challenge since the room that took the worse beating was the place where all the materials to fix things were fabricated. The whole damn room was crushed like a tin can.

I scrounged around, quickly finding a blow torch and some spare metal. I took the metal and molded it into the shape of the gap in the wing, fit it in, then blowtorched it so it would stay in place. Thankfully, it did, and I managed to get the pelican online after a tiny bit of hotwiring.

I then got the GAUSS hog hooked up to the pelican's back and drove the mongoose into the pelican's bay. This pelican wasn't really a troop one. It was more for delivering heavy artillery and supplies, more than anything. That meant that there were straps at the bottom of the floor to tie down any small vehicle. A mongoose fit that description perfectly.

I yawned, a feeling of exhausting coming over me. I hadn't slept in a month. I wanted to explore, but… I could take a nap first, couldn't I?


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: I'm thinking of making a Halo and ME2 cross-over, but I'm waiting until I've gone through a good portion of the game. Lemme tell ya, Bioware made an excellent beginning. It nearly made me cry. Also, before any of you say that it's an old game and shit, I've had it for a couple years now. Just that others games attracted my attention. So I started a new save and started replaying the game. Anyway, back to the story! And, as always, rate and review!  
_

 **0-0-0**

 **Enzo-D407's POV**

It was dead. All dead. The area I was in resembled a glassed planet. Maybe the Covenant had already gotten to this planet? No. There was no plasma searing and glassing didn't kill vegetation – it incinerated it. There was an elevated freeway, a large portion of it on the ground 40 feet below it. I kept my DMR on-hand since I had no idea what I could encounter. I checked my radiation scanner. Damn. It was _high_. "Beh, sarà divertente," I muttered to myself.

A couple of blocks north there was a city that looked like it had been ignored for a couple of centuries. What confused me most was that the buildings themselves, from what I could tell at my distance, were made of bricks and wood. "Just you and me, DMR," I mumbled jokingly, then realizing I was talking to an inanimate object, "Merda... I'm gonna need a full psyche eval," I grunted.

I started walking towards the town. As I neared it, I noticed structures that seemed more recent. Planks substituting as haphazard bridges, wooden balconies that seemed to be holding on by a couple of nails. I then heard a click as my suit detected motion. I raised my DMR and swept the area. "Pesky human!" shouted a guttural voice.

I looked upwards to see a horrifying, muscular, green man. It looked like… what was that super hero from the 20th and 21st century? Hulk! It looked like the Hulk. It had what seemed to be a board ripped from the floor of some apartment with nails stuck through it. "Attack!" it shouted. Suddenly, a dog that looked similar to the thing shouting curses started bounding towards me. I put three shots through its head, but it didn't die.

"Merda…" I muttered. In a flash, I had put my DMR on my back and activated my plasma blade. I waited for the write moment. It was about to pounce on me… until I severed its head. I was slightly impressed with my handy-work. I was one of the worst SPARTAN-IIIs when it came to combat, but that as by SPARTAN standards. I could still fight a citizen in my sleep and easily beat him within a second.

The only reason I was kept in the program was due to my "creativity" which Oliver explained that it meant that even if I can't kill things in conventional ways, I still had very, very high engineering and intellectual percentages. When I don't have a weapon, I could use the materials to create a make-shift weapon.

"Attack! Super mutants better than humans!" shouted the thing. Super Mutant? Good as name as any. Three super mutants with armor that covered their chest, arms, and nether regions ran out of one of the wrecked buildings.

I looked at their weapons. One had made a weapon out of a large pipe, another was holding what looked like a sledge hammer with thrusters on the back, and one was holding a… rocket launcher? My curiosity was answered soon enough as the one with the launcher shot a missile at me. I reflexively batted it away, knocking it on a collision-course with the one who launched it. I saw a slight look of disbelief cross its face before it transformed into a million gory pieces. I then grabbed my DMR and laid down the sights. Two headshots on the one with the sledgehammer. It fell backwards, dead. "Rarrrrrrgh!" I heard a voice roar, then saw the one with the pipe running at me.

It was about to hit me, but I sidestepped, and it crushed the concrete where I had been a split second before. I then jumped onto it and stomped my foot on its head, causing it to faceplant into the concrete, and with my weight on its head, its skull got crushed underneath my boot. I then grabbed a grenade off my hip armor, took out the pin, then chucked it into the balcony where the Super Mutant from before was at. "Shit!" I heard it shout in its guttural voice.

Sure enough, I heard a loud boom and saw the balcony fall from its 5th story position, the mutant falling with it. It was caught off-guard, so it was plunging towards the ground head-first. As I had guessed, the second he hit the ground, his head imploded and looked more like a gory pancake than a skull. "Idiots.. don't they know to not mess with a SPARTAN?" I asked myself. Maybe this is an old colony made before the SPARTAN programs were in action, then lost connection? That's a probable possibility.

The balcony then fell onto the mutant's dead body, crushing it. "Whoop-dee-do," I grunted. Man, this was so confusing. I slammed a fresh mag into my DMR, then clipped it to my back. I decided to check the buildings that hadn't inwardly collapsed for clues. I started trotting towards what looked like a gift shop with spikes protruding through gory sights out the front. I made a mental note to keep an eye out for these things because they seemed to be the mutants' trademark.

I was still wary of any idiots who had decided it was a good idea to piss off the 6'11" metal man with guns walking around. The door was barely standing upright, depending on half a hinge to keep it in place. I gently tried opening it, but it just fell face first onto the floor. "Alrighty," I drawled.

I walked in, denting the door underneath my weight. Everything was dark, even for my enhanced eyesight. I turned on my helmet's floodlights looking around. I went over to the counter and checked it for anything of value. All I found were 48 caps with the word "Nuka-Cola" on them. They were useless, so I simply chucked them into a bucket laying nearby. I checked the cash register, finding $50 dollars. Now, I wasn't a thief, but this was a matter of survival. I took it, then put it in a utility slot I had on my leg.

I looked in a trunk at the back and found some strange ammo types – 10 mm, 5 mm, .308, and some other things I didn't recognize plus what looked like a swim-suit magazine. I was slightly disgusted by it, so I just put it back in the trunk, and took all the ammo, just in case. Maybe this colony was an Insurrectionist one and declared its freedom from the UNSC, then started fabricating strange weapons and ammo. That's probably it.

I found what seemed to be a half-finished rifle made of wood and metal, covered in rust. I picked it up, aimed at a shelf, then squeezed the trigger. It fired one shot. It didn't seem to be bolt-action, so I pressed the trigger again. Another shot. I got curious and took out the magazine and looked at the rounds it was using. .308s.

I knew that my gut had been right when it told me to take the ammo. I scrounged around and found two more magazines identical to the one in the gun. I took them both, then clipped the odd rifle to my lower back. I was all set. Now to find a way to get my vehicles out of the ship and drill through a couple yards of solid stone.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Well, this chapter will contain the SS's POV, but will still mainly be Enzo's. As always, rate and review. It helps me out a TON! It let's me know what you guys like so I can dish out more of it._

 **0-0-0**

 **Sara Whitley's POV**

I stumbled back into what used to be my home. The fire of war had engulfed, it along with every good thing about this world. What was left? A husk. A place where everything and more wanted to kill you. I ran my hand over the antique counter. The vault suit brushed uncomfortably against my body, but I ignored it. I had gone from a mild-mannered lawyer to a survivalist.

I held a 10mm pistol in my hand. It was a constant reminder of my late husband, Daniel. He had been a soldier in the war. He always had said "Given the choice between a rifle and a pistol, I'd choose a pistol." He had a hidden stash of weapons in our old closet. He had always been paranoid about the war reaching the US, so he insisted on having enough food, water, guns, ammo, and other trinkets to supply a 10-man team for a week.

I walked down the hallway and turned into Shawn's old bedroom. His crib was in tatters, missing a leg and several pieces. The mobile was hanging by a single stringer and his tiny mattress had multiple tears in it. A single solemn tear crept down my cheek. "Oh god," I breathed, "Please bring him back."

 **0-0-0**

 **Enzo-D407's POV**

I had managed to use some of the drills in the ship to create an entrance and exit large enough for my pelican to fit. I had covered it with a hologram, so nobody would suspect a thing. I had managed to designate my pelican through its "dumb" AI.

I was currently going north, according to the AI's directions. The AI had matched the topography to every known planet in the UNSC database, and what the result was had caused me to basically nearly hurl in disbelief. It was Earth. From 2077, anyway. But what bothered me was that, if Earth had suffered something like this in the past, it would surely be in the records, no? And what made it even more stunning was that this was _Massachusetts_. I was currently in the area around Boston.

I was in a wrecked city. From what I remembered in geography class, this was probably Cambridge. The buildings around me looked like a bomb had been dropped on 'em. Suddenly, a man appeared on the street in front of me. He looked like a basketball player but was holding a rifle. I instinctively, I raised my gun. He turned to see me. "Shit! Synth!" he shouted, raising his gun, "Don't move, synth."

"The hell's a synth?" I asked, my voice steady. "Is this some sort of joke?" cried out the guard angrily. "I'm not the type to joke," I deadpanned beneath my helmet. "Are you with the fucking Institute?" he growled. "Negative. Are you with the UNSC or Insurrectionists?" I responded. "I don't know what the fuck those are," he responded. "I won't ask again. UNSC or Insurrectionists?" I asked.

"I said I don't fucking know what those are," said the guard irritably. "Fine, but I'll have you know, I'm not a synth. Whatever those are," I grunted. "Yeah, yeah. Diamond City's that way. Just know that we'll be keeping an eye on you," he said, then started walking away. Maybe I could get an answer in the city. I walked down the road to where the guard said, only to find another guard. "Synth!" he shouted, raising his gun. "I am not a synth. Now radio the other guards to let them know," I dismissed his worries and kept on walking. I heard him talking into the radio. "If you see big-ass fucker walking around in armor, don't fucking shoot him. He said he's not a synth. I personally don't believe him, but still, keep an eye on him," I heard him speak.

I then walked into what seemed to be a plaza. On my left, there was a large piece of metal blocking an entrance to a… ballpark? This is definitely one of my "the hell" moments. On the edge, there was a woman speaking into what seemed to be a buzzer. "Oh, c'mon, Danny! I live here! You can't just… lock me out!" she cried. "I'm sorry, Piper. The mayor says that article you wrote is all lies. The whole city's in a tizzy," said the voice coming from the buzzer. "Ugh! C'mon!" she pinched the bridge of her nose.

I walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. She wheeled on me and screamed. "Calm down, _donna_ ," I said evenly. Her expression of horror turned to confusion. "Woman," I translated quickly. "Wait… are you the one who took out the muties back at the Atomatoys factory? Leaving their guts strewn out all over the floor?" she asked, her face contorting in recognition. "I… guess?" I drawled, slightly confused. "Yes!" she fist-pumped. She then clamped her hands over her mouth as if she had said something wrong. She then put a finger over her mouth, the universal sign to be quiet.

"Ey, Danny. A special guard detachment here! You gonna open the door and let us in?" she asked. "Maybe," said the voice. "He also has supplies to stock Myrna's store for a month! You gonna miss out on that?" she said. "Alright, alright, no need to make this personal, Piper," said the voice. A second later, the piece of metal blocking what I had guessed was the entrance lifted. "We better get inside before Danny catches onto the bluff," chirped Piper, then walked into the entrance.

"Non ho idea di cosa sia appena successo," I muttered to myself and followed suit. A rather hefty man in a brown suit and fedora was chastising Piper. "The city's already paranoid enough without you bringing up synths in every issue!" he shouted. He then turned to see me, his jaw dropping in astonishment. "And you brought on here!?" his face turned red in anger. "He's human," replied Piper evenly. "How do we have any reassurance?" retorted the man. "I'd know if I was a synth," I spoke matter-of-factly. Truth is, I didn't even know what the hell a synth was.

"Then where'd you get that advanced armor?" he asked, clearly believing I was lying. "UNSC Charon-class cruiser _Star of Hope_ ," I replied honestly. "What is that, some kind of club?" he asked. "He's not from around here," said Piper, and under her breath, I heard her say "Dimwit."

"Well… whatever!" grunted the man, waved his hand dismissively, then walked up some stairs. "Ah, a big Diamond City welcome! Feel honored yet?" she made jazz hands to emphasize Diamond City. "When did hospitality die?" I asked sardonically. "Anyway, follow me. You'd be perfect for a story," she grinned. She started walking up the same stairs. I followed her, ignoring the suspicious glances I got from the guards.

What I saw on the other side caught me off-guard. "I just walked into a shanty town. What next? I meet a cartoon character?" I grunted sarcastically, taking everything in. The houses were all built of what looked like rusted, discarded, sheets of metal. There was, what looked like one, anyway, a sort of out-doors bar down the path. Piper took a left the second we entered and talked to a little girl. I'm just going to hope that she was Piper's sister. "Well, sis. Keep those newspapers crankin'," she smiled. The little girl nodded and went back inside the re-utilized metal prefab. She then walked into her office, holding the door for me. Inside was a TV, a couch, a set of stairs, a pile of cinderblocks, and a printing machine. "OK, first question."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Well, I finished ME2 so expect that fic to be underway! Anyway, like all my other fanfictions, it'll be following an OC or maybe, if people want it, the Rookie. I could possibly use Noble Six or Master Chief, but don't most fanfics that are about Halo include them? So many great and fleshed-out characters are ignored simply because Noble Six and Master Chief are in the spot-light and SPARTANs.**

 **Also, sorry about not posting a chapter yesterday. Since I posted twice Saturday, I guess the second chapter on Saturday made for it. My way of writing fan fictions is "one chapter every day or two when you get the opportunity". That's why my update schedule is so random. And due to my being a spontaneous person, I could plan a night out, feel inspiration slap me in the face, then start**

 **0-0-0**

 **Enzo-D407's POV**

"OK, let's start with name," she said, pulling out a clipboard and a pen. I wasn't about to give her my real name, so I simply went with my dog tags. "SPARTAN-III Commando SPARTAN-D407 Chief Lieutenant," I rattled off, saying it exactly as I had hundreds of times before. She raised an eyebrow. "I said name, not rank," she specified. "To me, that is my name. But if you are looking for a more human name, Crossfire will suffice," I said. The name "Crossfire" fit me perfectly. In my time before the SPARTAN-III program, I spent my time following mom and dad around on their missions for the UNSC. Eventually, they once went on a dispatch on Hydra V and never returned. Two days later, the casualties came in. And there, on the list, I saw my parents' names. Sofia and Diego Vasclo.

"Hmm… that'll work, I guess," she tapped her pen against her chin thoughtfully. "Alrighty. Now, the question I bet half the city has after seeing you. Where did you get your armor and is it possible to get another set?" she asked, ready to write. "No, it is not possible to make or get a set. I received it from the UNSC cruiser _Star of Hope_ ," I responded. Piper seemed disappointed in this. Of course, I had to bend the truth a bit. The UNSC _Death of Misery_ , the ship I landed here in, was fully stocked to make a SPARTAN armor set. Albeit the most advanced armor set it could make was a MK IV. I had MK IV FREEBOOTER armor-set. I said as much and described how it protected me and how it was an evolution of an older model.

"Alrighty then… something simple. Your age?" she asked. "18," I replied. Shock crossed her face. "I thought you were 27 or some crap," she murmured. "Nope. I'm 18," I confirmed. "Hmm… where do you come from?" she asked. I thought there was no real harm in telling the truth, so I said, "Cygnus II, Colony 036A."

"Is that some sort of city, Cygnus II?" she asked. "Non lo è – a planet. My origin colony was one of many," I corrected. "Now for the big reveal. Could you please remove your helmet, so I can take a picture?" she asked. I was not very enthusiastic for people to know what I looked like, "No. The most I can do is provide a description. Sorry."

"Alright, fine," she pouted indignantly. "I have light brown hair, glowing green eyes, and two scars; one going from my right eye to my mouth and one along my right jawline," I described myself. She put this down into a sketch. She then turned it to me. It had all the things I had said but somehow seemed off. I was fine with it, so I nodded.

"All right. You can stay here for the night. I'm gonna go and work on this. And after that, I'm gonna go with you," she grinned. "Wait, what?" I asked. "Yeah, I'm going with you. I can't just let a story like you go off and get yourself killed," she grinned. "Merda…"

Merda – Shit

Non lo è – It isn't

"The hell is that thing?" shouted the person. "Your demise!" shouted back Piper, ducking out of cover and shooting one's head off. "For real though, what the hell are they? Bandits, junkies, or some other piece of crap I forgot to mention?" I asked. She gave me a funny look, "They're called raiders. They're not exactly known for their hospitality."

She grunted as she shot a raider in the leg. They screamed in agony and crumpled to the ground, blood spurting from the aforementioned appendage and onto the ground. "So… just to make sure, I kill them?" I confirmed. "Yep!" she replied. "Got it," I responded, then jumped out of the area I had decided to stop at to ask Piper what these hell-spawns were.

"There it is again! Shoot it, assholes!" shouted one. "Vaffanculo," I grunted, then sliced one's head clean off. "Shit! It got Katey!" yelped a cowardly-looking, hooded raider. "I'm a he," I growled. Then moved over to where the hooded raider was and, in one swift motion, snapped his neck and fractured most of the vertebrae in his spine.

I tossed his body aside, hitting a concrete wall. We were currently in an area called the "Combat Zone", a sort of bar area for raiders, according to Piper. She had always been curious about this place, but was wary of coming here, fearing that she could easily die. Now, she had half-ton, pain-ignorant, gun-toting giant that could decapitate five people within seconds.

I looked around to find the two last ones. My shields flashed golden, indicating that they had absorbed damage. I looked around for the cause and found the second to last raider. He was about to headshot me, so I sidestepped. It wasn't all that hard. These idiots couldn't even shoot straight even with some overgrown cockroaches (I had seen a few of them before fighting with raiders – it was very amusing) and it was pathetic, seeing how horrible the raiders were at doing their name-sake.

I crouched down and grabbed a switch blade and flipped it open, examining the blade. In a flash, I snapped my arm forward, sending it pinwheeling through the air. As I had expected, the blade was facing towards the raider when it reached him. It punctured his skull, causing him to gurgle and fall to his knees. He held his hands to his head, then pitched forward, falling headfirst off the roof. I then heard a sickening crunch, signifying the raider had hit the ground.

"Raghhhhh!" I heard the make-do war-cry behind me. I wheeled on the voice, finding the last raider, seeking to pierce my armor with some sort of cross between a sword and axe. Before that, he found himself looking down the barrel of my DMR. I blew the trigger, blowing his brain out.

"OK, let's go inside," said Piper, jumping out of cover and walking to one of the more intact buildings. "You sure?" I asked, wary of all the signs that told us to go back. "Positive," she replied. "Se muoio a causa tua, ti perseguiterò il culo dopo la vita," I grunted.

We pushed the door open, seeing a vacant lobby. I didn't bat an eye at the prisoners held in the cell next to us. The second we entered, a bullet ricocheted off my armor. "Ok, ora sono incazzato!" I cried out, then chucked a primed grenade.

 **Se muoio a causa tua, ti perseguiterò il culo dopo la vita - If I die because of you, I'm going to haunt your ass in the after life**

 **Ok, ora sono incazzato! – OK, now I'm pissed!**

 _AN: Not much happened in this chapter, just filler. Also, again, sorry about not updating yesterday! I'm going to try to make chapters come every day or two, but it's gotten difficult since, where I live, the last days of the year are the hardest. I have four major tests with barely five minutes in between them, and I crammed like never before. I got a huge-ass head ache as a reward._


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: OK, for all of you who don't read my other fics, I've moved the update date on this fic to about three days in between each chapter. So… sorry for all of those people that wanted me to churn out content. Also, a HUGE thanks to CyberPunkFan from Fictionpress for helping me out with this chapter. Check him out – he's got an epic fic waitin' XD_

 _Also, like I said before, I want to make a Halo/Mass Effect 2 crossover, but I want an original beginning. It'd be much appreciated if some of you put some suggestions in the review section! Cheers!_

 **0-0-0**

 **Enzo-D407**

I decapitated the last raider by ripping his head off, then chucking it on stage, making a brand-new stain. There were two people remaining – and they were in the cage on stage. I quickly vaulted over the wooden barrier and fell the ten feet to the floor. One of the two people onstage was a girl. She had blood red hair and was wearing a maroon corset with some brown trousers and boots. The other was… what the fuck? Well, it was e a three-piece suit.

"What the fuck is that?" I nudged Piper who was standing next to me. "A ghoul – don't mention it to him," she said out of the side of her mouth. I nodded my head then walked into the cage. "Is it over? It's over, right?" asked the ghoul. "Er… yeah," said Piper. I noticed that she kept her finger on the trigger of her pistol, even though it was pointing downwards.

"Phew. Thank goodness. But, in all seriousness, why'd you have to kill all my customers?" it asked, annoyed. "Customers?" echoed Pipers. "Whaddya mean your customers, ya credit-stealer?" asked the readhead. She had been crouching on the ground, as if waiting more for a chance to fight than to be safe. She had an Irish accent that made her sound even _more_ sarcastic.

" _You_ signed the contract; therefore, you are _my_ property," shot back the ghoul. "Yeah, yeah," replied the redhead, rolling her eyes. "You," she noticed me, surprising me that she hadn't caught wind of me before. "You got some pretty big balls to run in here like a fuckin' commando," she laughed, "Sure gave those fuckers what was comin' to 'em."

"Er… thanks?" I could not tell whether that was an insult or compliment, so I'll take it as a compliment. I then got to work on wiping the blood off my armor. "Hmmm…" the ghoul mumbled, looking at me. "You're ne here, aren't you?" he asked. I nodded. "Well, why not take Cait with ya!" he grinned, as if that was a good idea. "Hold on there, dickwad," said who I presumed was Cait. "What?" the ghoul turned to her. "Don't I get a say in this?" she grumbled. "You signed a contract and I decide what to do with you. Now," he turned back to me, "Would you be interested in taking Cait with you?"

"Can't be much worse than this shitehole," I heard her mutter. "Sure?" I asked confusedly. "Great – welcome to the team, Cait," I heard Piper say sarcastically. Shit.

 _AN: Sorry about this chapter being so short, but I'm currently experiencing writer's block and have no idea in which direction to go. So… I guess it's pretty much up to you guys' decision. I'll just pick the stupidest idea from the review section (just joking! Probably…)._


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Nothing much going on. Anyways, rate and review! I thoroughly enjoy reading all the reviews and responding to 'em. I'm getting the ME2/Halo cross-over ready, and as always, it will follow an OC. Two to be exact. SPARTAN-A073, otherwise known as Gear, and his twin, the equally mysterious SPARTAN-B158, Cog. It should be published within the next two weeks. And since summer is here (Woo!), expect more frequent chapters on all my other fics._

 **0-0-0**

 **Sara Whitley**

 **One Week Later**

I stumbled into what the waste-landers called "Diamond City", a shanty town set up in Fenway park, my husband's favorite ball-park. I wandered down the stairs, looking around. Houses made of what seemed paper-thin metal sheets looked more like temporary huts. "Hey!" I heard a female voice shout. I turned around and saw girl with jet black hair in a red coat and a hat that had a piece of paper in it that said 'PRESS'. I pointed at myself, slightly confused. "Yeah, you!" she grinned and waved me over. "Er… OK…" I drawled, walking over. "Where'd you get that vault suit?" she asked. "Vault 111," I responded evenly, managing to keep my voice from cracking.

"So were you just there for scavenging or did you leave the vault?" she asked, seeming to grow more interested. "I was leaving after being frozen or something, but I was given the vault suit when I was entering," I said, thinking. It was all kind of hazy and seemed kind of like a dream. The order of everything was shuffled, as if I had done everything multiple times over different timelines and they all just collided together. I remembered dropping from the pad, but that also seemed to overlap Shaun's… kidnapping.

"What do you mean, 'given'?" she inquired, sitting up straight, now gone from her relaxed lounging pose. "Well, the bombs were being dropped, so m-" I started, but was cut off by the girl. "You were there when the bombs were dropped!?" she practically yelled, and her eyes bugged out of her head. She basically looked ready to explode. "Yes," I responded, then took notice of all the people she startled by yelling.

"I need to interview ya right now," said the girl, "Wait here." She then stood up from her chair, jogged into what looked like her home, grabbed something, indicated by the crashing and curses coming from inside, then ran back out holding a pen and clip board. "Alrighty, then," she grinned. "First question."

 **0-0-0**

 **Enzo-D407**

I really needed a break. And for some fucking reason, I was playing detective. I had saved the city's official detective, a synth called Nick Valentine – and for the first fucking time I knew what a synth was! Anyway, a Japanese girl had basically run away from her parents and I was sent to investigate. And that's how I ended up in the island of "Far Harbor", or maybe it was just the small town called that. I couldn't separate the two. Currently, one of the harbor-women were flirting with me, and I was going against all my instincts to not face-palm so hard I knocked myself unconscious. Then again, that would be an improvement of my current situation. "I wonder how big it is," she purred, then slipped her hand down to my crotch area. This made the alarms in my head, that were already warning me, go ballistic. "What are you? Some sort of prostitute?" I asked in an annoyed tone, jerking away from her, breaking a wooden wall in the process.

"For you I am," she cooed. "Hell no!" I shouted, then sprinted down into the town itself. I had currently been at the docks, but the docks looked like slums and all the people there had a "Storming of the Bastille" sort of vibe, with all their ragged clothes. I, having advanced armor from 300 years into the future, didn't fit in and many of the residents gave me the stink-eye.

"Something's coming – through the fog!" shouted a male voice. All of the residents who didn't want to get caught up in what seemed to be a gunfight ran into their homes, most of the shop-keepers and guards stationed periodically around the town ran to a wall at the end of a road going through the middle.

"You, newbie!" shouted a voice. I turned around and saw Allan, a rugged-looking man wearing a beanie and a coat (AN: I don't care if he doesn't actually wear a coat in-game, I just think the coat would look better than what he had on already.) waving at me. I fast-walked over, but most non-SPARTANs would call it sprinting. "Yes?" I asked. My mind was already lopsided and flooded with hormones from my near-sex encounter and a horrifying thought forced its way into my mind. I shuddered and pushed it away, then went back to reality. "You need to get to a defensive position – you think you can do that?" he asked gruffly, putting a magazine in his chrome assault rifle. "Got it," I replied. He nodded, then ran off. I sprinted over to the wall and opened the gates, then walked through. The gates then closed, and I heard a _click_ , signifying they were locked. I looked up and saw multiple people, sporadically placed above the wall. "Wait… I see it!" shouted the same voice. I could tell it was female now.

I looked towards what they called "The Fog" and saw the faint outline of a person coming, gun raised. If I had a bit of trouble seeing that, I could only _imagine_ the hard time she had with it. Then, one of the men pitched forward and fell on the ground, his head exploding into red carnage with bits of bloodied bone going everywhere.

"Get 'em, boys!" shouted ragged male voice. Suddenly, three more figures appeared in the fog, then ran out. Essentially, they looked like a raider got an older brother who was obsessed with fishing. One wore a lobster cage on his head, another had twin fishing poles tied to their back, while another was charging at me holding a tool that I forgot the name of but was commonly used to gut fish.

Instantly, the fish-guts guy had his head blasted off by the people behind me. I then activated my plasma blade and pulled out my DMR. I ran towards the one with a lobster cage for a helmet, then severed his head easily with the plasma blade. I got up, and the one with fishing poles tied to his back grabbed one and tried to harm me with blunt force. Anybody with common sense should know never to do this to a SPARTAN. As I expected, my golden shields flared, blocking his hit. His face contorted in surprise, then froze. I had shot him in the heart, and now he would have his face eternally frozen in a position that looked like he had just crapped himself while solving a complex equation. Have fun imagining _that_.

"That was just the first wave!" shouted someone, who I recognized as Allan. "There are of them!" shouted a person, then started firing. "Figlio di puttana!" I cried out.

 **0-0-0**

 **Third Person**

A man wearing a labcoat and a green sweater underneath sat at his desk, mulling over all the reports and sightings of the advanced teenage boy. His armor was nothing like the man had ever seen before. It was streamlined and open, unlike the power armor that he was used to. From what rare people he let live from his little battles, they had said that he had golden shields that flickered when someone landed a hit on him – a rare event since he could move as fast as a Sting-wing.

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. _Hopefully, that man hasn't allied himself with those foolhardy hooligans at the Brotherhood of Steel_ , he thought. A knock sounded out, originating from his office door. "Come in," he said, wiping his glasses clean. A young scientist, Yuan Gao, walked in. "Sir," he bowed respectfully. The man nodded in acknowledgement. "Do you believe that the… SPARTAN, as he is calling himself, could be an escaped synth with a form of power armor that he modified?" asked Yuan. "I believe otherwise. Synths don't have the intelligence to modify power armor the level where it is unrecognizable and have its own kinetic shielding as well," the man dismissed the younger scientist's worries. The man ran a hand through his grey, neatly-combed hair. "Maybe we could send a team of coursers to track him down and bring him in," suggested the youthful researcher.

The man put his hand on his chin as he leaned back in his chair. "Not a bad idea, Mr. Gao," mumbled the man. "Alert those in synth retentions that I want a team of five coursers dispatched to hunt down the SPARTAN," said the mature man. "Very well," Gao bowed respectfully, then walked out. "I am eager to see what that boy's technology has in store for us," the man grinned, then continued wiping his glasses.

 **Figlio di puttana – Son of a bitch**

 _AN: Like I said in the first AN, the ME2/Halo crossover will be published within a couple of weeks. And lastly, don't forget to review – I enjoy reading through what readers have to say over my fan fictions. Also, to make up for the very short last chapter, I basically made the length of my usual chapters plus the length of the last chapter, so… I guess I made it up! Finally, since I'm still relatively new to fanfiction, what the hell is a community?_


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: This chapter will mainly be the institute trying to capture Enzo, so… you're in for one hell of a doozy. Also, I got past my writer's block, woo! Anyway, some of you have been complaining that I've been doing Enzo's POV way more than the SS's, and technically, that's true, but seriously. Why would I want to focus on what's just a regular person with a big heart and exceptional fire-fight skills instead of the damn SPARTAN-III military-trained, augmented, masterful, and badass Enzo-D407. I mean, come on!_

 **0-0-0**

 **Enzo-D407**

I narrowed my eyes behind my helmet as I walked down the fog-covered street. It was a mess. Cars were over-turned and flipped on top of each other, windshields shattered, and metals crushed. All the buildings flanking the street had at least one corner in complete shambles. I carefully stepped over a lamppost, keeping my sniper rifle on safe mode. I treated noiselessly on the cold asphalt, years of training keeping my movements silent within the bulky suit.

Something caught my eye. There was a truck, but it was its cargo that caught my attention. It looked like a discount MJOLNIR armor if it had an extra couple inches of plating. You could that the armor was made more for suicide charges and massacres than precision and stealth. It stood a few inches taller than me and had an orangish green hue and had _Vim!_ painted all over it. It was probably made more for advertisement than actual battle, but it interested me nonetheless. Surely, nobody would squander protection like this when the best armor I've seen is a car hood strapped to a guy's chest. It was probably one in a thousand suits of armor just like this.

It was in a cage on a flatbed trailer on the back of the truck. It had steel cables reinforced with iron supports and a door. Me, being a SPARTAN, simply opened the steel cables and decided to study the suit. It had a few, nearly microscopic, words painting on the left leg's ankle. "X-51 Power armor," I read aloud. A fitting name, I decided. Should I destroy this or keep it for study? I couldn't wear it since 1) it didn't seem like it had a power source and 2) I'd have to choose between my current armor and this one, and I sure as hell wasn't leaving my armor. I finally decided to take some of the more interesting features, then blow the rest to kingdom come. I opened a panel in the back and looked at all the innerworkings. It was mainly supports and an exosuit to actually support the literal ton of armor. I took out a couple of pieces, stowed them away in my rucksack, then decided to use a grenade to blow it from the inside out. I looked over it one last time to store some details in the back of my mind where it would become useful if I decided to tinker with my MJOLNIR.

I quickly punched a hole in the back, chucked a primed grenade in, then jumped out, ducking into cover behind some overturned cars. I felt a shockwave and saw a flash, then heard the boom. When I looked, the power armor piece had been turned into a smoldering pile of molten metal.

Suddenly, a woman wearing a leather coat leapt out of a bush and held what seemed to be a gun at my head. "Hands up!" she shouted. I wasn't sure what was going on, so I slowly raised my hands, if only to humor her. "Now… follow me nice and easy," she said, backing away slowly. "And what if I refuse?" I asked, tilting my head to look more nonchalant. "We'll have to force you," she grunted, then waved. Three more people dressed in exact replicas of her leather coat leapt out, holding the same guns to my head. I made sure my sniper rifle had ammo by glancing up at its ammo counter. Sure enough, it had its ten rounds ready to massacre. "I look like I'm outnumbered here," I started, seeing the woman grin, "So I guess it's a fair fight." With that, I swiftly moved my arm and pulled the trigger shooting the head off the other woman that had a gun. "I don't take nicely to people holding firearms at my head," I quipped, then slid my combat knife out, then jumped into cover behind a cement wall. I reloaded my sniper, then switched to DMR. Without warning, a laser flew over my head. "You guys got lasers!? Fuck you, too!" I shouted out, annoyed that they had enough fire power as an elite.

"Walk out peacefully!" shouted the woman. "Alright, if you say so," I stood up and walked into the open, holstering my DMR. I had a plan. "Cuff him," she waved over towards the two remaining men, who started walking towards me. When they got close enough, I did something extremely risky. I stabbed the bald man in the neck and wrestled his gun away. The other man, a tall African-american with short-cut hair, drew his gun, then squeezed the trigger, revealing it was automatic. I managed to avoid most of the shots, even though _I_ didn't really avoid them. I had just moved way too fast for him to notice. I then severed his head and held the laser gun to the woman's head. "So… you gonna talk or will you join your buddies on the ground?"

She looked at me angrily, so I stepped it up a notch. "I don't really need you – I'd just prefer to know what's going on. And I have a much better punishment than death," I grinned maniacally. Essentially, I was just thinking of making her walk back to Far Harbor in her underwear. I didn't really count the embarrassment as punishment since, to a SPARTAN, if it doesn't hurt you physically, it ain't a threat. And there were creatures capable of managing to get my shield half-way down in one single swipe. If she didn't have any weapons, she was dead meat.

"Do whatever you want – I don't care," she sneered. "Alrighty then," I replied, walking over to her. I ripped off her coat, revealing that she had merely a jumpsuit beneath it. "What are you going to do – rape me?" she spat. "The fuck? Hell no!" I said, tearing off her jumpsuit. "It sure looks like it," she muttered. "You're going to walk to Far Harbor in basically underwear – so move it, smart-ass," I pushed her forward with my laser pistol, snapping her more… concealed weapons with my other. "Fine," she mumbled, then started walking down the street, more of a jog if I'm honest.

"Well, lieutenant – good job," I congratulated myself. "Now to see how this thing works," I gazed at the laser pistol.

 **0-0-0**

 **Vertex (Z3-15)**

 **24 HOURS LATER**

That idiot SPARTAN had taken my jump-suit which was concealing my chip. That was why I had to walk to far harbor bare-foot and with no weapons – not even a pistol. I was currently at the Institute again, enduring the rage of my dispatcher. "Did you at least catch footage of him in action?" she facepalmed, muttering some… less than nice things in Japanese under her breath. "Yes," I replied, the tiniest hint of smugness seeped into my voice.

"At least that dispatch wasn't a total waste," I heard her grumble, then jacked a wire into my head. A screen lowered from the white ceiling, then started showing what I had seen. He was there, about to take out S5-42. It was paused, and his image was stuck like that. I could almost _see_ the smug smirk on his face, if I knew what it looked like.

It then resumed, showing him whipping out his combat knife and puncturing Y3-81's neck. It paused at that exact moment. "Impressive speed – nothing compared to what those witnesses said. Though they weren't lying when they saw nothing but a blur," she mumbled in fascination, rewinding the footage and reshowing it in slow-motion. He had managed to move his arm in a manner that would be very difficult while moving. The video resumed, and then showed him head-butting Y3-81, then wrestling the laser gun while jump-kicking Y3-81. "I think I know a way to capture him…" I heard her mutter.

 _0-0-0_

 _AN: We're nearly at 1000 views! Hell yeah!_


	8. Chapter 8

**0-0-0**

 **Vertex (Z3-15)**

I was sitting in a sort of lobby, waiting for the dispatcher to hand me the outfit she said I'd need for the SPARTAN. Even though I was a courser – a synthetic created solely for the hunting and recapturing of rogue synths – I was trained in a way that the strongest creature I could beat was a deathclaw – no easy feat. Still, it was merely an animal relying on brute force and looks to drive you away or to maul you. It had no intelligence when it came to strategy.

This SPARTAN, though, was the most competent tactician I'd seen, paired with the strength of a super mutant and the speed of a car – a device I had read about. I had seen him run a max of 45 MPH in that clunky armor of his, fully weighed down with his weapons, ammo, and equipment. And he had to have impressive reflexes to take down one of my best coursers without even getting any resistance – quick, clean, efficient.

The dispatcher walked in, holding what seemed to be an upgraded version of the old suit the SPARTAN had destroyed. She handed it to me and gestured for me to put it on. "How is this going to help me defeat the SPARTAN? It's merely my old leathers with just a few added attachments," I asked. "Those 'few added attachments' are going to be your lifeline," she replied jerkily, "Every time we got a report, every time we saw him fight, he's preferred melee. He has a distinctive pattern. Weaken his victims by slashing at them, and if that doesn't kill them straight away, he finishes them off with either a stolen firearm or his own. This suit will help you deflect melee attacks and block the rounds from his weapons."

When she said this, I realized that it was true. I had never seen the SPARTAN _not_ use melee tactics in a fight unless it was long-ranged. That must have been what she saw in the video. There was one other thing I noticed that might helpful as well – he likes to distract and confuse people. He had essentially turned himself over, and in less than a second, slaughtered one of my coursers, then decapacitated the other. He relied on speed to confuse people as to how he will attack.

"I see you're getting it now," said the dispatcher, giving me a cruel smile. I quickly shrugged off the standard-issue jumpsuit I had on, then equipped the upgraded leathers. The second I placed the face-plate on, a circle started jumping around my FOV. I tilted my head in curiosity. The dispatcher took notice of this and explained, "That circle will help alert you to any melee attacks, then give you the best way to block them."

I looked down at my gloves and saw that they had cyan lines. There was a circle outline on my palm, with cyan lines going down my fingers, then stopping at my fingertips in a circular design. "And these?" I asked, flexing my hands. "They work as a number of things. Nifty gadgets, really. They can work as electrical currents, data analysis, or to help pad your hands from any blunt movements," she smirked. Suddenly, the dispatcher threw a knife at me. Its blade was on a trajectory to hit my head. The circle in my FOV pinpointed the blade, then sent a shock down my arm, which caused it raise and grab the knife out of mid-air. "It works, then," she smiled gleefully. I nodded, taking in what I had just done.

"Usually, suits like these require months of testing. I guess this little field test will have to do."

 **0-0-0**

 **Enzo-D407**

I was fighting a giant hermit crab. You heard me right – a giant hermit crab. Its shell was half of a van. It was massive – 15 feet from claw to the back of the van. This thing would take a fuck-ton of ammo to kill, and I didn't want to waste it, so I'm sprinting at 40 MPH away. The damn thing's faster than it looks, but it didn't stand a chance against a SPARTAN. A sign on the edge of the road caught me attention. A gas station. Perfect. I turned and ran up the road with the hermit crab a couple of yards behind me. You actually smell it before you see it. The damn thing smells of guts and calamari. I know because the stench was so powerful that even my air-scrubbers couldn't completely annihilate the odor.

The gas station came into view. Miraculously, it could still work. Mainly because the buildings surrounding it acted as a wall and took most of the brunt. The hermit was right behind me. I sprinted towards the gas station and took a grenade off my hip. I then ran into the gas station and the hermit ran right behind me. I then took out my sniper rifle and placed a shot right in its leg joint. It screeched and pain and fell on the floor, struggling to stand up. I primed the grenade, then threw it into the gas station, taking off for cover. I slid in behind a building, then heard a massive explosion. I peeked out from my cover and saw and massive crater where the gas station used to be.

"Babbeo!" I shouted out, attaching the sniper rifle to my back. I heard a metallic click, signifying it had attached. I walked to the edge of the crater, looking in. Sure enough, I saw bits of crab meat and metal. A voice rang out behind me, "Put your hands up."

 **Babbeo - Sucker**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I know this chapters WAY overdue, sorry about that. It**

 **0-0-0**

 **Enzo-D407**

I slid my combat knife out, ready for a fight. Then, the girl whose team I killed jumped out, holding what looked like a cannon aimed at my face. "Come along peacefully, and I won't incinerate you into oblivion," she growled. I had already fought her before, so I bet I could take her on another time, even if she had some upgraded equipment.

"How 'bout no?" I retorted, then slid in behind a wrecked car. "Very well," I heard her sneer, "Come at me!" I did just that, plasma blade poised to attack. I swung for her side, my logic being that if I managed to slice her midsection she would die instantly, and if I didn't slice her, the brute force would be enough to make one of her ribs puncture a vital organ.

She managed to block it and used the momentum to flip backward, aimed her gun, then started blasting at my head. I was slightly caught off-guard by her speed. My guess is that it has to do with her upgraded gear. "Technology doesn't substitute for skill," I grunted, making a mock blow at her shoulder. As I expected, she raised her arms to block. I then used my thrusters to lower me, and I made a break-dance-reminiscent move, knocking her off her feet. She fell on her rear, and nearly rolled backwards. I sung for her leg, and this time the hit struck its mark. Everything below her knee was severed, the edges searing and melting from my super-heated weapon. She shrieked in agony, holding her leg, or rather what remained of it. Here comes my favorite part. "Tell me who you work for. You aren't smart enough to accomplish this on your own," I growled, putting my blade an inch from her shoulder. "I'll never tell you," she gasped, still trying to stop the bleeding from her severed appendage. "Your choice," I said. I then lowered the blade so that it was laying on her shoulder. As I had expected, it melted through the thick leather easily and start searing through her skin. She let out another cry of pain, tears starting to flow down her face. "Tell me now – or I will very slowly cut off your limbs and eventually get to the juicier parts," I muttered lowly. "Alright, I'll talk! I'll talk!" she exclaimed once my blade nearly got to her bone. "Good girl," I said.

She opened her mouth to speak, but she then disappeared in a blue flash. "Shit," I snarled. "Cosi dannatamente vicino," I growled, allowing my plasma blade to deactivate, "Cosi dannatamente vicino…"

 **Cosi dannatamente vicino – So goddamn close**

 **AN: For any of you who are confused, Enzo doesn't know about coursers yet, so he thought that a highly-trained human woman was after him. Also, it's ben getting hard to write this since I've been losing interest. I'm honestly thinking of discontinuing this. :I**

 **One last thing. This chapter is so short because I felt like the fight needed its own identity and to be the main focus of this chapter. See ya, Dwemerites! XD**


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: Ello, mates! Sorry about not posting anything lately. I really have no excuse – just plain laziness. Anyway, reviews motivate me a fuck-ton because I can see that people actively want to read my content… basically what I'm saying is that the more reviews there are (hopefully constructive criticism), the more chance I make more chapters in less amounts of time. Anyway, I'm not going to go all sentimental and shit on you guys, since you all probably hate that xD_

 _Oh, and Wit is just going berserk because of the shopping trip he had to go on. I mean, women, I can see the appeal of going to stores, but going to at least six different stores for over nine hours? Jesus Christ. Let's all have a moment to mourn Wit's sanity (LOL)._

 _Ciao!_

 **XXX**

 **Elder Maxson**

The human calling himself Spartan had piqued my interest. I sifted through multiple pictures depicting him. I didn't care that most of them had come from stalker-ish sources – they were pictures of the Spartan, no matter who took them. The first one was of him tangling with a super mutant in CQC. His guns were on his back while he was about to plunge the knife into the brute's neck, his left hand actually holding the brute's fist, as if the Spartan had caught the brute's fist. I moved it to see another one.

The Spartan was jumping off a third-story-balcony, his legs bent at a right angle with his arms behind him as if he was diving. He carried the scoped gun, which highly resembled a sniper rifle, in his right hand with his left hand empty. He was looking downwards, as if there was something on the ground that his attention was riveted on.

I swept that picture aside to see the one behind it – a very valuable picture. Some lucky stalker had managed to take a photo at the perfect second, revealing a bullet impacting the Spartan's left breastplate-area, golden shields flashing around said person's body. "Interesting…" I muttered. Maybe he was a good idea for a recruit.

 **XXX**

 **Enzo-D407**

These 'muties' were complete knuckleheads. Apparently, they didn't find the 6'10" man armed with heavy weapons and MJOLNIR armor able to withstand plasma running into their base headfirst threatening. To that, I have one thing to say. They have huge balls. The nerve they have to tangle with me in CQC, and taunt me, was just extraordinary. They're even dumber than the _grunts_ , and even _they_ had enough common sense to flee when their superior was killed. I was growing testy, and I really needed a good fight. Raiders were like paper bags to me, easy to rip through and slice up. They had no where near the training a UNSC foot soldier had, let alone a SPARTAN-III.

There was one downside on my side to the super mutants' stupidity – they even considered running at me with a nuke a viable option, when all I had to do was shoot the mini nuke and boom, mutant dead. Of course, if they got a bit too close, the resulting radiation could fry my armor's systems, not to the point of disrepair, but to the extent where it would be a massive pain in the ass to fix.

The mutant I was currently fighting was using a chainsaw, trying to cut me in half. Unfortunately for it, I was using its bulky, muscle-bound form against it. Sure, SPARTAN-IIIs have the bodies that people dream of, but not to the degree where are just slabs of meat. We have been trained in intellectual warfare as much as we have physical. He swung at me and I strafed right. The thing let out an annoyed grunt and tried swinging at me again. I dodged. Apparently, it had the brainpower to start spinning. Sadly, this was a disadvantage to the hulking moron as I could easily just step out of the chainsaw's range and just shoot him in the head. Of course, I had said I wanted a bit of a challenge, so I challenged myself. I took out a grenade and primed it. I ran up to the giant leapt upwards, completely clearing the chainsaw blade.

I landed on its shoulders. I heard a couple of satisfying cracks of bones snapping underneath my weight, but like the dumb muscle-bound knucklehead it was, continued spinning, probably hoping that it would knock me off. It had no such luck and shoved the grenade down its throat and used the spinning momentum to jump off backwards. I landed in the same direction and rolled, managing to stand still facing the mutie. I counted the seconds; 3… 2… 1. As I had predicted, its head blew up into thousands of little, red, gory bits.

I became acutely aware of what sounded like a motor. I quickly glanced upwards at the sky, unsure whether to look for what was causing the sound or to keep my eyes on the advancing mutants. Just as I had made up my mind, a sort of twin-engine helicopter came over the horizon.

"Shit."


	11. Chapter 11

Okay, here it is. I'm discontinuing this, but have no fear! I will be posting a new story – a rewrite of this. Because, honestly… this was kinda shitty. Mneh. I'm going to post the rewrite sometime next week.

Rewrite:  
Commonwealth's Genesis


End file.
